


Sleeping Arrangements

by niqaeli



Series: WTFJH [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Futurefic, M/M, Multi, Other, Polyamory, Polyfidelity, Relationship Negotiation, aren't you proud, watch me refrain from excessive tumblr style tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 10:17:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/559897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niqaeli/pseuds/niqaeli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fluffy futurefic; Stiles is in grad school.  Wherein everyone is an actual grown-ass adult.  And Stiles is, himself, beacon-like in nature. </p><p>Warning: your values of fluffy may vary.  Various background details aren't; the story primarily is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleeping Arrangements

**Author's Note:**

> Possibly of interest to readers will be the [WTFJH tumblr](http://wtfjh.tumblr.com/), wherein the various bits of this universe that I have thrown at the internet have been collected. Hopefully it isn't necessary to follow this story and the ones to follow, but it may be enlightening and helpful.
> 
> Additionally, the first bit of this series [Werewolf-Induced Cuddle Trauma](http://archiveofourown.org/works/560197) by [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/jmtorres/profile)[**jmtorres**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/jmtorres/) is available here on the AO3 as well.

Derek got into LA a little before 6:30pm, which was about a half an hour sooner than Stiles had been expecting given when Derek had texted that he was leaving Beacon Hills. Stiles had been screwing around on the internet and fallen down the rabbit hole of TV Tropes, which meant the elk steak was still sitting the fridge in its marinade along with everything else for dinner.

Stiles shoved some frozen edamame in the microwave with some water to heat up, because a hungry werewolf was never a pretty sight, and pulled the elk out along with the fixings for salad. "Seriously, though, how fast did you drive to get here?" Stiles said, as he portioned some edamame into a bowl for himself, leaving the rest for Derek.

Derek shrugged. "Didn't really pay attention," he said and sat at the kitchen counter to eat his edamame. Stiles tossed some garlic and some oil in the cast iron and started slicing onions.

"Well, Drew's not going to be back for something like an hour, he was volunteering for a wine tasting thing this afternoon at the Arboretum, and then he has a conference call, because apparently 8:00 in the evening for half your staff and even later for most of the rest is a totally sensible time to have a conference call," Stiles said. "He said not to wait for him on dinner, which is salad and elk by the way."

Derek nodded and finished demolishing the food in front of him before looking plaintively at Stiles. "Dude, food does not magically cook itself, and while I am aware you will eat your meat still mooing, the marinade will taste like ass if you don't let me actually cook the steak," Stiles said. Derek continued looking tragic and starved until Stiles shoved his own barely touched bowl of edamame over to Derek with a sigh. "There's cider in the fridge, if you're thirsty. Other stuff, too, knock yourself out."

Derek wandered over to the fridge and pulled a bottle out, one of Drew's stash of Mexican Coke. Stiles rolled his eyes when Derek used a couple of claws to pop the lid off instead of the bottle opener that was right there on the fridge. "You are ridiculous," Stiles said, tossing the steak in with everything else. Derek did _something_ with his face, it might have been a smile. Usually Stiles could tell, but it was gone before he could really make it out. "Wash your hands, you can make the salad."

Stiles plated Derek's steak and left his in the pan for another few minutes because medium rare was as rare as he'd been able to eat his meat since that time he'd ended up having to eat raw rabbit, while Derek obediently layered the salad according to Stiles's instructions.

Once they sat down, Derek wolfed down about half his food almost immediately, which was normal, and then just -- stopped. Which was not. Instead, he stared at his food for a while, instead of eating it, which was sort of terrifying. "Okay, what the hell, spill," Stiles said.

Derek flinched a little and said, "Chris Argent wants to know if I'm dating you and your boyfriend," before finally taking another bite of steak.

Stiles stared at Derek for a while after he finished choking. "Chris -- _Chris Argent_ \-- wants to know. If we," he waved a hand vaguely to include said absent boyfriend, "are dating."

"Yes," Derek said, almost guiltily. There was no sane explanation Stiles could come up with for why Chris Argent would be interested in Derek's love life. Or why Derek would feel guilty about it.

"I have no idea where to start with that statement," Stiles said, after a moment, at a loss. He shoved his plate away; somehow, his appetite was shot. "No, wait, I think I have to start at Chris Argent. Why is Chris Argent asking whether we are dating?"

"The last time I dated, it didn't go well," Derek said, staring at the wall to the side of Stiles's head intently. "It's professional concern."

"Out of curiosity, when was that?" Stiles asked because if Derek was talking about _Kate_... Derek flinched at Stiles's question, which was fascinating but not particularly enlightening.

"A couple years ago," Derek said, finally, stabbing at his salad.

Stiles thought that over; interesting that he hadn't heard anything about it. He had rarely made it back to Beacon Hills, but he talked to his Dad all the time and he was still in touch with Scott and Erica. Stiles hadn't yelled at them for letting anything Derek-related slip since, oh, his second year of undergrad.

"That -- still doesn't actually explain why Chris Argent thinks we might be dating," Stiles said, slowly. Chris Argent was not top of Stiles's Christmas list, because fuck all hunters ever. Stiles wouldn't have thought he'd be anywhere on Derek's either.

"He talked to your Dad after --" Derek broke off. "Chris had a pretty convincing case that if we're not dating, there are still mixed signals happening."

Stiles considered that for a moment. "The bed? This is about the sleeping arrangements, isn't it."

Derek flinched again. "Some. But also -- the last time I was here, there was the thing with you and Drew and.... that."

Stiles thought for a few minutes about what had happened the last time Derek had come up to visit. Mostly uneventful, except for when Derek had kicked himself out of the bed and the apartment both, because Stiles and Drew were making use of it. Stiles and Drew hadn't really cared, but Derek had.

The idea of Derek discussing that with Chris Argent was horrifying and fascinating, because _why_. Stiles wondered vaguely if it had been anywhere near as awkward as this conversation was shaping up to be.

"He thought -- you might be. Screwing with me," Derek said. "I don't think you are but he's right, it's weird, and I don't really know what's going on. I want... I like being your friend, I like Drew, I like seeing you happy. I just need to know what this is."

That was probably the most coherent emotional statement Stiles had _ever_ gotten from Derek. Stiles stared for a while before putting his head down on the table, laughing weakly. It was hardly the first time Stiles and Drew had managed to confuse people but it definitely had the most poetic, fucked up symmetry Stiles had ever seen.

"I'm not laughing at you," Stiles said, after a moment. "I just really never expected to get my revenge for you breaking my heart when I was 18 by accidentally fucking with yours. I, we, it's really not something we were trying to do. Revenge in general, or fucking with you."

"Stiles, you already had a first-come, first-serve policy on your bed," Derek said, surprisingly patient. "I _know_. I just -- I need to know what you want. From me."

Stiles scrubbed a hand through his hair and looked over at the clock. "Okay. Just -- Drew really needs to be around for this conversation, I think. I'm not really a fan of putting off conversations, but can we wait 'til he gets back?"

"Okay," Derek said after a long, awkward moment. He turned back to his food determinedly, which would have been more hilarious if Stiles hadn't been busy wondering how the hell his life became this ridiculous. Stiles shoved his plate over to Derek because the food might as well get eaten, and went back into the kitchen to cook Drew's dinner and clean up the dishes.

Derek managed to finish eating his and Stiles's food by the time Stiles finished up in the kitchen, which left them in awkward silence while they waited. Stiles briefly considered hiding in the office with his thesis before sitting down on the couch. He couldn't help his eyeroll when Derek sat down on the other end of it. "Really?" Stiles asked, gesturing at the six feet of space between them.

Derek shrugged slightly. "Should I have sat in your lap?" he asked drily, startling a laugh out of Stiles.

"Considering you weigh a ton, no," Stiles said. "I do appreciate the ability to breathe, it's very important to me."

Derek huffed slightly, but said nothing.

"So... how are things in Beacon Hills? Still Beacon-y?" Stiles asked after a while, because his ability to live with uncomfortable silence had improved over the years but not that much.

Derek gave him a look of disbelief. "Beacon-y," he repeated, flatly.

"Oh my god, what do you want from me," Stiles complained. "I have ADD, a deeply surreal brain, and am constitutionally incapable of letting silence sit."

" _Beacon-y_ ," Derek said, like repeating it would make Stiles less ridiculous or something.

"Yes," Stiles said, running with it, because the ability to take something completely ridiculous and defend it to the death was a basic skill in academia that Stiles had honed to an extreme. "Beacon-y. Beacon-like in nature, not to be confused with bacon-y which is more meat and less awesome lighthouse."

Thankfully the door rescued them from having to attempt any further conversation when, after some rattling, Drew opened it and walked in. "Honey, I'm ho--" Drew broke off, mid sing-song, as he came in and saw them. "Holy shit," Drew said, eyeing them and the overall air of discomfort.

Stiles waved at Drew, perhaps a little dementedly, because Drew just kept staring. "I have seen some awkward silences in my time, this is up in the top five," Drew said, pausing for a long moment. "Did the not-thing become a thing while I was out? Was there knotting? Did he _warn_ you? Because I still haven't gotten an answer from Derek on that, and unexpected knotting would totally be this awkward."

Stiles started laughing again and couldn't quite stop because while the rest was bullshit to lighten the mood, Drew was probably serious about the top five comment and it was impressive and terrifying that they had managed that considering Drew really was a connoisseur of awkwardness. Derek, for his part, just looked pained, as if he'd bitten into something sour.

"Actually," Stiles said, when he could finally breathe. "It has been pointed out to me that we have been possibly screwing with Derek's head or heart or whatever, albeit unintentionally, by dint of being us at him."

Drew blinked while Derek made a noise that was halfway between a growl and a harrumph. "So, wait," Drew said, sounding confused. "Did not-thing _actually_ become more thing?"

"No, there was just a horrifyingly awkward discussion, which you now get to be a part of," Stiles said. "Although I don't think I can ever properly express to you the unholy horror of knowing Chris Argent discussed any of this with Derek, oh my god."

Drew dropped his messenger bag down on the coffee table and flopped down on the couch. "You've got me until I have to get ready for that damn conference call," he said, collapsing onto Stiles's shoulder. "At which point we will find out if I actually have pyrokinetic powers."

"We won't have to, because I'm going to fly up there and set Burke on fire myself," Stiles said. Burke was the CEO of Discrete Vijf, the company that had bought graphiothe.ca, Drew's company, a few months prior. So far, to all appearances, Burke was engaged in a personal vendetta against the volunteer community for graphiothe.ca as well as suffering a severe case of raging asshole.

"Aw, you say the sweetest things," Drew said into Stiles's neck. "But seriously. What the hell went down that was so awkward?"

"I asked..." Derek said, trailing off. "If we're dating."

"And by we he means you and me both," Stiles added, helpfully.

Drew raised his head to blink at Derek. "Did you want to be?"

"I -- don't know," Derek said, slowly. "I just don't know what is going on. When I came out to check on him after the trolls, Stiles made it very clear we were not ever a thing and that had been my choice, and that I had no right to an opinion on any of his life choices. Which is fair and I'm happy for you, both of you; I want to be friends. But I don't -- I'm not normal, and you're... neither of your are people-normal either, and it's _weird_ ," he says, looking over at the bedroom.

"You had just shown up like a creeper," Stiles grumbled. "And I had no way of knowing at the time that you'd actually mostly grown past being an emotionally stunted idiot. I was just enforcing reasonable boundaries!"

Derek tilted his head at Stiles. "Your idea of reasonable boundaries included offering me your bed not five minutes after you told me that. The last time I visited, you were ready to have sex with Drew in the bed next to me. Sorry if I'm a little confused," he said, drily.

Drew snickered against Stiles. "He has a point, babe, and I am _vindicated_ about the not-thing totally having been a thing," Drew said.

"Okay, one, I never said anything about me and Drew, I told you to stuff your judgy face about us sleeping with lots of people, and two, _we were totally not a thing_ ," Stiles said. "I was a teenager with a stupid crush and he was a moron with the emotional maturity of a turnip. There might, I will allow, have been legitimate sexual tension before he crushed my heart, but there was no actual _thing_."

Drew snorted as he rearranged himself against Stiles, putting his head in Stiles's lap and his feet up on Derek's thigh. Derek looked down at them with an adorable little crease between his eyebrows. "Also," Stiles added, refraining from directly commenting on it, "you're the one who has been using him as your own personal body pillow."

"He's comfortable, and warm, what do you want from me," Drew said, complacently. "Derek, make with the hands, please? My feet are killing me, I didn't get to sit down once at the Arboretum today."

"This has not clarified anything," Derek complained, but he started working on Drew's feet. "Stiles, what do you mean you never said anything about you and Drew."

Stiles dropped a hand in Drew's hair to pet him while he thought that over. "Just -- I thought you were being jealous or judgmental or something, which is not something that really flies with us. I didn't say you could never -- I said you didn't have the right to be a judgy ass. Which you didn't, and you got over yourself. If you hadn't gotten over yourself, we wouldn't even be having this conversation, I'd have kicked you out after that went down, and we'd have gone back to never talking to each other."

Drew's alarm started going off on his phone and Drew made a horrible noise as he sat up. "Ugh. Sorry, kids, as hilarious as this whole thing is -- and I promise you I would really prefer to sit through all of it than take that fucking call -- I am kind of on a time crunch here. Derek, listen, you are like a whole pile of damage, but you're not actually half as much of a dick as I was led to believe and am I blind. You're gorgeous, and you're funny, and you _may have_ noticed I kind of have a weakness for both those things. I would not kick you out of bed for eating crackers, okay?" Drew said. "Or, you know, for sleeping with Stiles already. Seriously, did you want to be dating us? Either of us? I mean, work it out with Stiles, whatever, he's a grown man and he knows my relationship boundaries so I am fine with any of it. And we can work out whatever you might want with me after I survive this fucking conference call."

Drew staggered to his feet and leaned down to kiss Stiles -- Stiles reached up and tugged him into a deeper kiss. "Good luck," Stiles said, softly, when Drew pulled back.

"Thanks," Drew said. He tugged a hand through his hair, freeing it from its loose braid, and pulled it up into a loose ponytail before putting in a bluetooth headset. Drew wandered into the kitchen, making noise as he filled a glass of water, while Stiles looked over at Derek.

"So," Stiles said after a minute or so of silence. "Did you want to be dating me or Drew or -- both of us? Actually, no. Let's be more specific, ambiguity and mixed signals are a bad thing as we have already amply demonstrated. Did you want to be having sex with one or both of us? Because Drew just told you he'd be down for that himself and, oh my god, you and I are the definition of complicated but yes I would be down for that too.

"But also, I should say, the sleeping arrangements and cuddling and," Stiles said, waving his hands. "and whatever -- our friendship and the visits, those are all still on the table even if the answer to wanting sex is no, you get that right? Or -- if you just want the hanging out, want to visit and eat our food and go home, that's okay too. You don't -- it's not all or nothing, you can redraw your boundaries, you can change your mind about what you want; we like having you visit regardless of whether you sleep in our bed."

Stiles wasn't sure why Derek had been offering no opinions of his own so far of what was going on, just asking Stiles and Drew what was going and what they wanted, but it seemed worth pointing that what Derek wanted was just as important, that whatever Derek wanted Stiles and Drew would respect it. Stiles had always liked Derek, liked his sense of humour and the fact that while he inevitably went about it badly, he was always trying to protect people; losing him again, now that they'd started building a real friendship because Stiles and Drew were too much just -- Stiles really didn't.

Derek's apparent confusion would've been cute except it faded into a rather lost expression that didn't go away.

"Okay, so I'm beginning to see why Argent was concerned," Stiles said, after a while. "Look, if it helps for me to put this out there: I do want you. I don't -- I don't need you, but I do _want_ you and I just hadn't really noticed. I wasn't really paying attention to it because I -- we are the definition of complicated. It's been years since we were whatever the hell we weren't and while I'm willing to try something new, I'm definitely not ever going back to that so I was just ignoring it all. And I have a hard time keeping friendship and sex separate anyway, they get mixed up all the time for me and I just don't even notice." 

Derek stared at Stiles, looking helpless and tragic. "It's probably a bad idea for me to -- for me to get involved with anyone. I'm not good at this," Derek said, quietly. "I'm not good at casual. And I'm worse at serious."

"Okay," Stiles said, blankly. "Are -- are you saying you can't handle the fact that we sleep with other people? Or what?"

"No," Derek sighed. "That's not -- I'm saying, I don't know if I can do casual with you, or, or Drew and serious -- is a really, really bad idea. It just -- I can't."

"Okay," Stiles said slowly, unsure why -- that being the case -- Derek had been negotiating the subject as being a question rather than something he needed to deny or shut down. Derek had grown the hell up too since they'd last been around this block, but Stiles was certain he was still perfectly well capable of shutting things down thoroughly. "If that's your choice," Stiles said. "If that's what you want, I will respect that. I don't, I don't really get it, but I don't have to get it, it's your choice, I respect it."

Derek flinched a little, something desperate and unhappy crossing his face. "It's not --" he said, trailing off, before hunching up in apparent misery.

Stiles tilted his head as he thought about it, before crossing the couch space between them to sit next to Derek. "I'm going to hug you, if that's okay," he said, and went for it when Derek shrugged minutely. "Look, I'm sorry, but my telepathy's not working. You're going to have to actually use your words."

"I want you," Derek said, quietly. "And Drew. I missed you," he said, sounding practically five years old as he buried his face in Stiles's neck. 

Stiles hung on tightly and ran a hand through Derek's hair for a bit before asking seriously, "If the problem isn't the sleeping with other people thing, how do you get from that to -- not being able to?"

"You went off, and you made a life for yourself, and you're happy. I don't want to fuck that up," Derek said, muffled, because he hadn't moved his face at all from the crook of Stiles's shoulder.

Stiles stifled a laugh -- it wouldn't be productive -- but that, honestly. "Okay, well, I'm happy. I will be happy no matter what happens, because I _do_ have a life with a job I enjoy and a house that I like and my life will carry on with all the awesome things in it continuing to be awesome even if our friendship goes down in flames or whatever. But," Stiles said, "I'd be even happier if you weren't miserable and you do not appear to be happy, so I will be honest: I'm not really thrilled with things as they stand."

Derek shifted and tightened his hold on Stiles, breathing deeply, apparently disinclined to let go. Derek had always been pretty tragically touch-starved and clearly needed to be hugged more, so Stiles gladly let him hang on until Drew stomped out of the den to the kitchen, cursing the whole way. "I swear to fuck, they will have to invent a new level of hell for you, you goatfucking, camel-humping _pond scum_ ," Drew said, and pulled a Coke out of the fridge. Stiles winced as Drew chucked the bottle cap forcefully in the general direction of the recycling, and Drew disappeared back into their office still muttering invective under his breath.

"His boss -- well, Burke's not his direct boss thank god but he's the CEO, which isn't actually much better," Stiles said, after a moment, when he noticed Derek's baffled expression. Drew tended not to talk about work much, anymore, preferring to talk about things like his tutoring and the Arboretum. "Anyway, yeah, he really is that much of an asshole. Fair warning, when that call ends, Drew's probably going to want to get smashed and he's an incredibly affectionate drunk. I will fend him off if you want, but yeah."

When Derek shifted under Stiles, Stiles moved to let go until he heard a soft whine from Derek. Stiles blinked. "Okay, we can go back to me sitting on you, but you are going to have to come up with some words at some point. Okay?"

Derek clutched at Stiles and eventually came up with something; it sounded wrenched out of him. "Can we just -- not talk about this? For now? I -- I want you, want this and I just, I can't."

"For now," Stiles agreed. "If you agree to a time limit on that. Twelve hours?"

Derek muttered something that sounded like assent, and blinked when Stiles stood up and tugged on Derek's hand. "Look, if you're going to do the clingy thing, which is fine, the bed's more comfortable," Stiles pointed out, at Derek's tragic expression. "Unless you're not comfortable with that which, also fine, but if not I'm getting some covers and we're nesting on the floor because my back can't take the couch for much longer, okay? I am a delicate flower."

Derek relaxed slightly at the suggestion, which meant that was a yes. Stiles rolled his eyes but laid a hand on Derek's head, letting his fingers tangle in Derek's hair. "Right, I'll be back, try not to assume the fetal position in my absence," he said. Derek growled softly under him, without menace, and Stiles laughed. It was good that Derek hadn't withdrawn enough to not want to tussle and banter.

He grabbed the guest blankets and pillows from the hall and spread them out on the floor. Derek wrinkled his nose unhappily in that way that said 'this offends my delicate werewolf nose,' which was ridiculous because all they could possibly smell of was detergent and dust, since they lived in storage given most guests just slept in the bed. "Seriously? Should I get one of our duvets and some pillows, will that help?" Stiles asked. Derek rolled his eyes, but Stiles was already halfway to the bedroom.

The crease between Derek's eyebrows disappeared when Stiles returned with more pillows and Drew's duvet -- Stiles's would have been too heavy, but Drew always ran hot and slept under a lightweight cover -- so Stiles figured he'd called that one right. Derek sat on the floor and let Stiles make a nest from the blankets and pillows and arrange Derek and himself on top of Derek. "Okay?" Stiles asked, listening to Derek's pulse. Derek didn't say anything but his breathing did even out into a reasonable rhythm under Stiles.

They laid that way for the better part of an hour, Drew's voice filtering in intermittently raised and angry even through the closed door of the office, before Drew finally ventured out of the office again. Drew's hair was loose and frayed, falling out of the ponytail from where he had been scrubbing his hand through it. A few chunks fell in his face as he threw his bluetooth headset at the wall. "Stiles," Drew said. "Stiles, I'm going to murder Burke. I am going to murder him and piss on his grave. You'll help me bury the body, right?"

"I thought I was going to be your alibi," Stiles said, thoughtfully, without moving. 

"You can be my alibi _and_ help me bury the body," Drew said, fiercely. "Oh my god, I cannot even tell you how stupid this is. It is going to be a clusterfuck, it is going to ruin the fucking site, and god help me I'm the one who has to code it. The community is going to _lynch me_."

Drew dropped down next to them, sitting beside Derek where Stiles could reach out and lay a hand on Drew's without shifting.

"We're going to be introducing automagical links to Amazon and Barnes and Noble and whoever the fuck else they decide we're going to shill for," Drew said, sounding less murderous and more defeated. "In the forums. On people's posts. Whether they want them or not. Any time they use the site code to reference a title in our system, if it's available for sale on the third party sites, we're going to helpfully link to the page listings selling them."

"So what you're saying is, they're legitimately trying to get you killed." Stiles said, horror dawning slowly.

"I'm starting to suspect it," Drew said. "On top of that, it's going to be a _nightmare_ to code. I would really, really like to know what fucking deities I offended to deserve this."

"There's a new bottle of rum on the counter," Stiles said, after a moment. "Mixers in the fridge, too."

Drew sighed. "I'm too angry to drink," he said. "So, what's the verdict? Why are we in the middle of the living room and not the middle of our very comfortable bed?"

"Well, in a shocking turn of events, Derek has issues," Stiles said. "Couldn't even tell you what beyond the fact that he's a noble idiot, but the discussion's been shelved 'til morning in favour of puppy pile because words are haaaaaaaard." Stiles snorted as Derek shifted, grumbling into Stiles's hair. "Shut up, it's totally true."

Drew fell over to the side and sidled up against Derek to faceplant into his other shoulder. "That's nice. Are you planning on sleeping out here? Because, listen, cuddles are one thing but I do not love anyone enough to sleep on the floor when my spacious, comfortable bed is available. And rage blackouts are exhausting which means I will be passing out soon."

"Well, _I'm_ not sleeping out here," Stiles pointed out, reasonably. "See also: delicate flower. Derek, you can have the couch or you can come sleep with us, it's up to you. Before you answer, please let me take this moment to remind you that that is and has always been on the table without any pressure for anything else."

Derek muttered something about wolves and dens that Stiles couldn't quite hear, before he said, "Yes, fine."

Retrieving the duvet and pillows that actually belonged to the bed and migrating in the bedroom took about ten minutes; Derek ended up in the middle of the bed with Drew plastered across him even more than usual.

Stiles curled up on his side facing them and reached a hand out to rest on Derek's shoulder, as much contact and comfort as he could offer and possibly get to sleep himself. As it was, he was unlikely to get more than a few hours sleep given how early they were going to bed, but in the summer that mattered far less than it would during the regular school year. Eventually, Stiles slept.

**Author's Note:**

> Drew Navarro is entirely of my (and my braintwin's) invention. He's pretty adorable, isn't he?
> 
> PS, if you thought he was white reading this story, well, he's not. I could not work out a way to more explicitly acknowledge this in the story from Stiles's POV but he's not, and it will come up later in more detail.
> 
> PPS, the credit for the bad idea bear that attacked Drew's work goes to [](http://dreamatdrew.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](http://dreamatdrew.dreamwidth.org/)**dreamatdrew**. The confluence of names is completely coincidental.


End file.
